Iron Fic: A Meal at the Burrow
by The Chairman
Summary: Contestants were given 24 hours to write 1500 words describing a meal at the Burrow. The meal itself was to be the focus of the contestants' stories
1. Chapter 1

Rite of Passage

It was the day Hermione had been dreading for a year. Dolohov, Bellatrix, Voldemort? Child's play. This was more terrifying than all of them combined.

It was her first night to cook family dinner at the Burrow.

Apparently it was a rite of passage for the women who married into the Weasley family. In fact, Ginny had even done it, just to show solidarity between the women. Angelina had failed so miserably she wasn't even allowed near the kitchen anymore. Her steak and kidney pie had looked like something you would use to coat roads or build houses, and her attempt at lemon sorbet was now a thing of legend. They'd ended up ordering Muggle pizza that night…. Audrey, Percy's wife, had passed with flying colors, as everyone had expected, preparing a perfect Christmas stew with only minimal assistance from Molly. And Fleur has obstinately refused, saying Bill liked her food well enough and that was all she had to worry about.

Looking back on her history with Ron, the whole situation rubbed Hermione the wrong way. Why did she still have to prove anything? Half of her wanted to pull a Fleur and refuse. Ron actually told her that he completely understood if she did. Unfortunately, the half of her that was used to excelling at everything she did wouldn't let her. And this is how she found herself in the cooking section of the Hogwarts library (she had a lifetime pass to use it whenever she wanted) on a beautiful Friday in June. She had a plan—as always—but she'd had to come and do a little research before she went grocery shopping.

"Thank you, Madame Pince!" she said, placing two of the books in her bag. "I'll be sure to have them back next week."

"No trouble, young lady. Good luck with your party."

"Thanks!"

When they got to the Burrow that afternoon, there was a small kerfuffle in the kitchen. Audrey may have been okay with Molly hovering as she cooked, but there was no way in hell Hermione was letting the older Weasley woman chaperone if she could help it.

"No way."

"I'll stay out of your way.

"I need space to move. And I have stage fright. Watching me cook is just a bad idea."

"What if you need an extra pair of hands?"

"I have my wand. I'll be fine, Molly," Hermione said gently, steering her to the back door.

"I'm being thrown out of my own kitchen," Molly Weasley grumbled.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, grinning. "But dinner tonight has a theme, and you wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would you?"

"I suppose not…But do you know—"

"I know where everything is, and that the oven is tricky. And that Harry, Ron and George are currently knicking grapes!" she called over her shoulder.

"Sorry, love," Ron said as they scooted into the back garden as well.

"Wait," Harry said. "Did you say your dinner had a theme?"

"Of course it has a theme," Ron told him in his "Come on, mate; this is Hermione we're talking about" voice.

"Out!" Hermione ordered, laughing.

She spent the next two hours pretending to be on some sort of wizarding cooking contest show. It honestly helped, seeing as she'd technically be graded anyway. She stirred, and chopped and poked and prodded and time checked and calculated and cursed. Finally, as six o'clock rolled around, she put the finishing touches on the salads and set them on the table.

"Dinner!" she called into the back garden, and opened the door as the family trouped toward her.

"So what's the theme, Hermione?" Arthur asked as they all sat down. "I believe there were a few bets taken outside."

She smiled and waved her wand. "Magical meals around the world," she said, as the bowls of soup and plates of salad floated toward them. "First we have lobster bisque and dirigible plum salad from America."

"It looks delicious!" Molly said.

"Thank you!"

"Though I thought we'd be having British food…this is a nice change of pace."

"Always good to mix things up a little," Hermione said. She caught Fleur's eye and the blonde subtly raised her glass to her. She looked around the table, and the other women seemed to be onto her plan too. Play Molly's game, but don't give her home court advantage. "So who won the bet?" she asked.

"I think George came the closest," Harry said, grinning. "He said something about exotic foreign food."

"I thought you'd go all Hogwarts throwback on us," Ginny told her with a wink.

When everyone had finished their soup and salad, Molly said, "Would you like help serving the main course, dear?"

"Oh, we've actually got one more bit before that. And no need to get up, Molly." Hermione waved her wand again. "Some pan-fried pork and cumin dumplings with pineapple salsa."

Molly looked slightly scandalized at the fact that Hermione wasn't bustling about the kitchen, but said nothing.

Fleur seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

"Next up: blue bottle flame-roasted duck with Chinese five spice. A sweet firewhiskey and raspberry sauce to go with it, and some buttered lentils and carrots on the side."

For quite a while, no one spoke as they dug into their food. Hermione let out a small sigh of relief, caught only by Angelina, who winked at her. She was genuinely happy that it was going so well, seeing as she'd never tried these recipes before. Though, she did notice Molly looking a bit nettled at all of the compliments she was receiving….

"This is amazing, 'Mione," Ron said through a mouthful of carrot.

"And no one's going to take it from you, Ron. Slow down and chew," she said fondly. She still found his eating habits slightly disgusting, but she realized (to her horror) that she was used to it at this point. She reached over with a napkin and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

"Zis is very good," Fleur agreed. "You must give me ze recipe, _oui_?"

"Of course, Fleur!" Hermione said.

Dinner continued to go well, and Hermione continued to get subtle encouragement from the ladies at the table. The men were staying out of it—they knew better. She didn't really understand this family's need for rivalries with one another, but accepted it as a "big family thing" and enjoyed the fact that she seemed to be winning whatever game they were playing.

That is, until Molly threw her a curve ball over dessert. She had obviously noticed that she was fumbling the initiative, and felt the need to regain ground fast.

They were just digging into their fried ice cream when Molly asked, "So, Hermione, when are you and Ron planning on giving me grandchildren."

Ron choked. Hermione paled.

Ginny came to the rescue.

"Don't know when they're planning on it, but Harry and I plan to give you one in about six months," she said, calmly eating.

In the chaos that ensued, Molly's question to Hermione was completely forgotten.

Later that night, once they were back at their flat, Ron and Hermione relaxed for a while listening to the wireless.

"For a while there, I thought you'd be our second refusal," Ron said after a bit.

"No…. I thought about it, but it was nice to show off a bit," Hermione said, smirking. "Plus, as much as everyone thinks this is your mum's way of testing us…. I think it's also kind of her way of stepping back and letting us have the spotlight for a while, even if it drives her crazy to not be the Head Mother in Charge. And, since we always refuse her help, she gets to put her feet up, so to speak."

"Dinner really was fantastic," he said, kissing her shoulder. "Thanks for going with the flow."

"We Weasleys are an adaptable lot."

He laughed and then sat up as an owl soared in through the open window. "It's for you," he said, taking the letter off of the bird's leg. "From Mum."

Hermione opened it, and read:

_Thank you for a lovely dinner tonight, Hermione. I'm so glad you agreed to cook for us. I know it seems a little overbearing on my part, but I do enjoying watching you girls conspire against your mother in law… :) Any time you want to throw a Weasley dinner of your own, let me know! I'll be happy to hand over the oven mitts to you anytime. And maybe between the two of us we can teach Ronald some table manners, eh? One can only dream…. Have a wonderful weekend, dear. Give my love to Ron._

_~Molly_

_P.S. Don't think I didn't notice you narrowly avoiding the grandchildren question…._

Hermione smiled and folded the letter up again. "Nothing gets past that woman."

"Been telling you that for years, but what are you talking about specifically?"

"She caught all the winks and nudges during dinner tonight. But good news—I think I've officially gotten the Weasley seal of approval."

"Only in our family would cooking be a rite of passage," Ron muttered as they made their way to bed.


	2. Pecan Pie

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Harry Potter Universe, or any of the ancillary intellectual property.

Pecan Pie

With a whoosh of green flames, Hermione Granger stepped out of the fireplace and into the kitchen of the Burrow. Her friend Ron Weasley was sitting at the table, obviously waiting for her, and she saw his mother Molly Weasley standing over the stove, coordinating things with her wand, with the strains of music coming from the wireless in the kitchen.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron greeted her nonchalantly, although his wide smile at seeing her made her grin slightly at her friend rather than rolling her eyes at his casualness.

"Hello, Ron," Hermione said warmly. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley!" she shouted over the radio, which was playing either Celestina Warbeck or one of her many imitators – Hermione couldn't tell which.

"Oh, hello dear," Mrs. Weasley responded, raising her voice and not turning around. "Ron, don't just sit there. Take Hermione's trunk up to Ginny's room."

"Oi, Mum! How do you know I wasn't about to?" Ron said indignantly and his slowly rose from his seat.

"Of course you were, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. Hermione hid a smile as Ron grumbled and lugged her large trunk up the stairs to his sister's room on the first floor.

"Thank you for letting me stay with you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, approaching her.

"You're always welcome to stay with us, Hermione. Harry will be coming a little later in the summer, when the Headmaster fetches him." Molly Weasley turned around, and Hermione saw she was dressed in a set of forest green robes which were possibly the most elegant clothes Hermione had ever seen her wear. They were obviously not new, and of a cut Hermione knew (thanks to five years of rooming with Lavender and Parvati) was more than a decade out of style, but they suited the older woman.

"You look very nice, Mrs. Weasley. Is there some special occasion?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly. "Thank you. It's our anniversary today. Twenty-eight years. Arthur is taking me out for supper, so it will be just you and Ron for supper tonight. What's that you're carrying, dear?"

Hermione looked at the two boxes in her hands. "Oh, my mum sent some pies with me. I'll put them in the icebox, and we can save them for when everyone's here."

"That's very thoughtful of her. Do thank her for me, won't you? You and Ron should have some tonight, though – I haven't made any pudding, and I know he'd like some pie. I've made some stew – it's not much, but I hope you like it. It should be ready in a few minutes. Now, I have to be going – I told Arthur I'd meet him in Diagon Alley, but we'll see you tonight. Or tomorrow," she said with a small smile.

"Bye, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said.

"Ronald! Come down and serve Hermione some supper! Honestly!" Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs, and then threw some Floo powder into the fireplace, stepped in, and disappeared.

Ron emerged from the staircase. "Mum left?"

"Yes. She said supper should be ready in a few minutes."

"Good. I'm starving."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and the two friends caught up with what had happened in each others' lives over the past few weeks. Hermione told Ron about her week in Germany with her parents, and Ron caught her up on the news around the Burrow, including Bill's fiancée Fleur Delacour spending the summer with them.

"'Course, they're in France at the moment, visiting her family," he said as he ladled two large bowls of a lovely-smelling stew for them. "And Ginny's over at Loony's place, visiting her before she goes off with her dad to hunt for Horny Snorkers, or whatever," he said with a chuckle about the girl's strange beliefs. Hermione chuckled along with him – she was certainly brave and determined, and the fight at the Department of Mysteries certainly would have went worse without her, but Luna Lovegood was a strange girl, of that there was no doubt. "So it's just us."

Ron tore himself a large piece of the crusty bread on the table, dipped in into the stew, and bit off a large chunk with a moan of satisfaction that Hermione found strangely unsettling.

"Must you do that?"

"What?" Ron said with his mouth full.

"Moan, like you've never eaten before."

"Hey! I'm away from home ten months of the year. Pardon me for liking Mum's cooking."

Hermione shook her head. "You're doing far more than liking it. And the food at Hogwarts is delicious."

"Sure," he said, putting a large spoonful of stew into his mouth, and talking while chewing. "It'sh gweat, but it'sh not Mum's."

The stew certainly smelled delicious. As she began to eat it, she had to admit it Molly Weasley was an excellent cook. On the one level, it was a simple beef stew – large chunks of tender beef in a delicious brown gravy so thick she probably could have eaten it with a fork. There was large pieces of tender carrots in it, along with cubes of potato and turnip. A simple stew of the same kind eaten in a thousands of other English homes that night, no doubt.

At the same time, the flavours of it were unlike any stew she had ever eaten at home. While her own parents' stews would be flavoured with some Worcestershire sauce and HP Sauce, she knew from previous discussions with Ron that those everyday English sauces had never crossed over into wizarding cuisine. In their place, the stew Mrs. Weasley made contained a variety of flavours that were almost familiar, and some Hermione couldn't place at all.

English wizarding cuisine tended to be even more mildly spiced than Muggle English cooking. While flavours such as curry had transformed the English palate, wizards and witches still held the traditional English suspicion of strong spices. Parvati had complained about that for three years until she found that she could request her favourite dishes from the Hogwarts house elves. Hermione herself refused to, as she didn't want to exploit the diminutive people any more than she had to, but she did miss the stronger flavours of Muggle food.

But Mrs. Weasley's stew, while milder than Hermione would have prepared herself, was no less tasty. The flavours were subtler than Hermione was used to, but there were very enjoyable. There was pepper in it, certainly, but some other flavours she couldn't place at all. The most notable was a hint of something that was almost, but not quite, cinnamon, but there were hints of things she had no familiarity with at all, other than previous meals made by Molly Weasley.

It was very good.

As Hermione tasted and considered her way through every bite, Ron practically inhaled his whole bowl, and went back to get more. He moaned in satisfaction just as much through his second bowl as he did through the first.

"Why are you so loud? You're never this bad at school," Hermione said.

"I told you, I love Mum's cooking. You can't tell me this isn't amazing," he said.

"It is very tasty, of course. I always enjoy your mother's food."

"Then let me enjoy it," he said with a smile.

Ron had managed to eat three whole bowls by the time Hermione finished hers, and sat back satiated, completely content with his lot in the world. "Now that was wonderful," he said. "Nothing like a good stew."

"How can you enjoy eating so much? I liked it too, but I don't act like you do."

"That's 'cause you're so repressed," he said with a jaunty smile.

"I am not repressed!" she said. "I just prefer to act civilized."

"What, it's not civilized in liking to eat?"

"It's certainly not to moan all the way through it, like some kind of... well, like you were doing."

Ron just looked at her.

"I mean, it's just food."

"Food is _life_, Hermione. Without it we die."

"I _am_aware of that."

"It's more than that. My mum loves to good for us. I don't mean she just enjoys it, I mean for my mum, food is love. She puts so much effort, so much of herself into making these meals for us. Even beyond it being so bloody tasty – "

"Language, Ron!"

Ron ignored her. " – you can feel the love she puts into it. I just like to show I appreciate it."

"Well, you could do it more quietly."

"I suppose."

"Anyway, I hope you saved room for pie," Hermione said.

"Oh, there's always room for pie. It's like you put an Undetectable Extension Charm on my stomach just by mentioning it."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that.

"I didn't know mum made pie."

"She didn't. I brought it from home. My mum sent along some pecan pies."

"What, like the nut? Nut pie?"

"It's technically not a nut. It's really a fruit, the same what a tomato is a fruit and not a vegetable."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, it's not just pecans, Ron. It's very good. You should try it."

"Oh, I will. I've just never had nut pie before. Is it some kind of Muggle thing?"

"It's more of an American thing. My parents spent a summer there once and grew to really like it," she said as she cut them each a large piece of pie.

"Looks great," Ron said. He took a large bite... and out came another moan. "This is fantastic!" he said.

"It's usually pretty good," Hermione said.

"Good? It's better than good. It's... it's tremendous. You can really taste the love your mum put into it."

Hermione smiled. "My mum bought it at the pastry shop."

"Well, you can taste the love _someone_put into it." He had another bite and moaned again.

"Honestly, Ron," she said, taking a bite of her own. "It's just pie."

"'_It's just pie?_' You really don't get it at all, Hermione."

"Not like you do, apparently. It tastes good, but..."

"It more than tastes good, Hermione. It's a feast for all the senses."

Hermione was sceptical.

Ron put his fork down, and moved around the table to sit next to her rather than across from her.

"Right, you're never going to get this unless I show you. Look at it. What do you see?"

"I see pie."

Ron shook his head. "Yes, but really _look_at it. It's got a golden crust of pastry. It's got those nuts on top, covering the whole thing like... like a layer of brown cobblestones, I guess, each one similar, but each one with its own look, all ridged and such. And at the side, the filling... like a light brown paste, or something, slightly bulging out the sides. It looks bloody marvellous it does.

"Now close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close your eyes. Just for a minute or two. Concentrate on your other senses," he said, as he cut a small piece with her fork and held it up to her nose. "Smell it."

She did.

"It smells sweet, doesn't it? You can practically taste the sugar in it right through your nose, can't you?"

"I think it's corn syrup."

"Whatever. You can smell the sweetness, right? And the pecans?"

She could.

"Now keep your eyes closed. Open your mouth."

She did, and he gently placed the pie into her mouth.

"Now, don't think of the taste with this bite. Concentrate on what it _feels_like."

She chewed and swallowed.

"Did you feel all that? The flakiness of the crust? The hardness of the nuts? The gooey feel of the stuff in the middle? Feels great, doesn't it, all those textures?"

She had never really thought of how the pie felt as she ate it before, or the texture of her food much at all. She didn't like mushrooms, mainly due to how they felt in her mouth, so soft and spongy, but otherwise she had never thought of the texture of her food. Until Ron, of all people, pointed it out.

"Yes, it does."

"Good. This bite, concentrate on the sound. It doesn't make much sound as you chew it – you're a quiet one, you are – but you can hear the crunch of the pecans, can't you? And if you concentrate, that faint sound the crust makes as our teeth bite through it. This isn't the best food for sound – I think the best was a bag of crisps Dad brought back from the village a while back – but it's part of the experience.

"Now, last bite, and I'll get back to my own pie. This bite is all about taste. This time, tell me what you taste."

She tried to concentrate solely on the taste of the pie in her mouth, but it was hard with Ron leaning close to her, right beside her, the heat radiating off his body, his soft breathing as he looked at her. But she tried.

"Okay, well, it's sweet, but it's not quite sugar. It's a different kind of sweet. And there's almost a buttery flavour – I think that's the pecans. And the crust, of course. There's a hint of something else in there, too... although I can't place it."

"Vanilla, I think."

"Yes! That's it."

"Okay. Now open your eyes."

She did, and saw Ron looking at her quite intensely.

"You get it now? This is a marvellous pie. I've never had anything quite like it. Thank you for bringing it," he said sincerely, and went back to his own chair and had another bite. "Itsh delishush."

Hermione looked at her pie, and looked at Ron, who had closed his eyes and moaned again.

"Do you do this _every_time you eat?" she asked, incredulously.

"Not quite like that. But yeah, a bit. I love food. I love everything about it – not just how it tastes, or how I get full. It's great." He finished the rest of his piece quickly. "Ginny'll love this. I'll have to ask mum if she can make these sometimes – they're really good." He took his plate over to the sink. "Game of chess when you're done?"

Hermione muttered her assent, but she was lost in thought. She had never seen Ron so passionate about anything. She knew he liked to eat, but she never thought of it as such a _sensual_experience. But there it was. She closed her eyes and had another bite, trying to concentrate on each of her senses in turn. It truly was marvellous.

She opened her eyes to see Ron grinning at her.

"You're starting to get it, aren't you?" he asked.

She nodded.

"See?" he said. "Ron knows what he's talking about. I'll go wash up and set up the board in the living room."

She watched him leave. She'd always thought him a fun young man, and he was growing up to be quite tall and handsome, and he'd been such a good friend... but years later, looking back, she knew it was when Ron Weasley taught her about how to eat pecan pie that things finally clicked for her.


End file.
